Let's Misbehave
by duskbutterfly
Summary: A series of Rom/Com one shots set in Season 2 centred around Jack & Phryne. One - Temptation: "Jack swore vehemently under his breath. How had a simple request for a pair of muddy shoes gotten so out of hand?" Two - Vows: Phryne is always keen on progress, even in something as traditional as marriage vows.
1. Temptation

**AN:** This is the first in a series of brief one-shots of random Phryne & Jack scenes which keep popping into my head set in Season 2 but, for this one there's no spoilers and I'll always warn if there are ;) A quick shout out to Seldarious, for being awesome. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I have no worthy connections, I own no rights to any of the material and seek to gain nothing but amusement by writing.

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**Temptation**

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"Just how important is it that I find the shoes I wore to the crime scene over a week ago, Jack? They could be anywhere by now, they were completely ruined!"

With a heavy sigh and a quiet prayer for mercy, having already explained this more than once, Jack began again. "Collins was going through the general area photographs taken by the police technicians to see if we'd missed anything in the 'Stately Home Murder' as you've taken to referring to it and he found a series of a woman's footprints in the flower bed pointing in the direction of the body and I need to rule them out as definitely not yours before we spend hours checking all the suspects' shoes."

"Can't you just take my word that I certainly wouldn't have trampled someone's garden to get to a crime scene?" Phryne asked defiantly, her hands bracketing her slim hips.

"You told me your shoes were destroyed by excess mud."

"Well, yes they were -"

"And to call this a garden bed was perhaps a bit generous, it was more like a small patch of mud between two sections of lawn which, if you look very closely did have some very pathetic looking seedlings growing in it but not under the footprints as far as Collins can tell. In which case, you would have seen no reason to specifically avoid it if you were in a hurry - which you were if I remember rightly."

"Fine." Phryne relented, making Jack feel her argument had been more out of habit than genuine objection.

"We'll try the cupboard in the hall first," Phryne said, brushing past him and flinging open a cupboard door he'd never noticed before, "I seriously doubt Dot would have thrown them out so they're probably in a box in here."

Phryne rummaged briefly before beginning to pull things out, saying indistinctly (her head and a good portion of her upper body was inside the cupboard) "Hold these, there isn't enough spare room to sneeze in here."

Jack found himself being loaded up with an incredible array of stray hats, scarves and miscellaneous items of clothing, none up to the usual standard Phryne wore, which lead him to the suspicion this cupboard was the adult version of a dress-ups box filled with disguises and what Rosie had referred to as her 'rough-work' clothes for jobs such as picking roses from the middle of the rose bed which tended to result in casualties of the sowing variety. Jack, resigning himself to this being a long and drawn out process, wondered idly whether Phryne ever had any need for rough-work clothes? She managed to look her usual stylish self even when chasing criminals across roof-tops and breaking into cemeteries and if that didn't qualify as rough-work Jack didn't know what would.

At this point Jack was ripped from his quiet thoughts by something soft being tucked into the last remaining space between the top of the pile he was carrying and his chin such that he practically had his nose buried in it. Glancing down Jack nearly dropped everything he was holding and tried desperately not to breathe in any more of the sweet, spicy perfume that was invading his senses.

His chin was resting on the pink feather fans Phryne had used that night in the Imperial Club. Jack clamped his eyes shut, trying to prevent the memories that had haunted his dreams for the past few months from flooding back. Prior to that night he'd never understood how anyone could consider Gentlemen's Clubs as entertainment. The idea of frequenting such a venue had always repulsed him, on every other level it still did, but Phryne with those damn fans - and later, that moment when she'd ended up perched on his lap, holding his face to her chest to maintain their cover -

"Jack!" Phryne's voice was louder than usual, making him certain it wasn't the first time she'd tried to attract his attention.

Jack's eyes popped open to see a pair of very muddy heels occupying a significant portion of his field of vision. A quick glance at Phryne's dark eyes and wicked expression suggested she knew exactly what path his thoughts had been taking and held promise of everything his dreams could conjure up and more. Jack fought valiantly against the impulse to blush and wished desperately that he could put everything down and remove himself from such blatant temptation.

"I found them!"

"So I can see," Jack said - or tried to say through the feathers, instead nearly taking a mouthful of them and involuntarily breathing in more of the intoxicating perfume. Proving unequivocally that scent really was the most powerful memory trigger available.

"Careful Jack," Phryne said dropping the shoes and stepping in closer, invitation practically dripping from every word. "Those are rather delicate and I've been keeping them as a souvenir, they feel glorious against bare skin you know."

Jack swore vehemently under his breath, trying to prevent his body from betraying him. How had a simple request for a pair of muddy shoes gotten so out of hand?

With a delicate hand Phryne smoothed the feathers down, her fingers trailing across his lips as she brushed them away from his mouth. Jack's lips parted on a slightly ragged breath. Trapped by his armful of stuff he could do little more than hold perfectly still and endure the caress as best he could. When her thumb returned unnecessarily, retracing the path taken by her fingers across his lips but taking advantage of their parted position Jack decided two could play that game. With a swift movement Jack placed the gentlest of nips on the pad of her daring thumb.

Phryne froze momentarily, her pupils widening in shock and something which looked an awful lot like excitement. Jack, having predicted the former reaction buried the later for later examination and took advantage his brief reprieve to dump the collection of oddments on the floor, snatch up the shoes Phryne had so casually placed there and was headed for the door by the time Phryne had realised he wasn't clearing his arms to participate more fully in the dangerous game she'd begun.

Jack turned back as he gathered up his coat and hat, amused to see Phryne still looking slightly shocked and smoothing the pad of her finger across the injured thumb.

"Jack?"

"I'll be back tonight." Jack said, pausing just long enough to see Phryne wonder as to the implication of such a declaration before continuing dryly, "to return your shoes, Miss Fisher. I can't imagine it could possibly take Collins more than an afternoon to make a footprint for comparison."

It was with a satisfied smile that Jack closed Miss Fisher's front door and headed back to the station. Such a tiny taste of temptation couldn't be that dangerous, could it?


	2. Vows (SPOILERS 2x12)

**AN: ***SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 EPISODE 12: UNNATURAL HABITS. *****

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**Vows**

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"Why is it that they haven't modified the marriage vows to include the caveat 'unless or until the other party applies for a divorce at which point I will most likely commit murder' after all that rubbish about loving and serving that person forever?" Phryne asked Jack as they sipped their post-case whiskey in her parlour.

Given that they'd just solved their third murder by vengeful spouse this month, Jack could see her point. However agreeing with Miss Fisher was never half so much fun as disagreeing with her and a man had to earn his whiskey after all.

"Given there are plenty of men, myself included, who have safely navigated divorce without resorting to hacking their bride's new-intended and their bride to death with a pitchfork it would probably have been considered a little too extreme for the church or state to condone."

Phryne's eyes had taken on the mischievous gleam which always spelled trouble, yet drew Jack to her like a moth to a flame. Her comeback did not disappoint.

"However, you did manage to have your former father-in-law and your bride's intended committed to stand trial in which the intended may just be sentenced to a long wait followed by death in prison for his crimes. That could be considered a policeman's ultimate triumph."

"You seem to be overlooking the minor fact that both men committed serious crimes, irrespective of their treatment of my former wife." Jack said it dryly but struggled to keep his lips from slipping into a smile. He could not help feeling a certain satisfaction in the knowledge that Sidney Fletcher had proven thoroughly rotten and would not now be marrying his former wife.

"A man of your high moral fiber is unlikely to ever be a very good example in such cases but given you shot Sidney for threatening me and I nearly murdered that beastly woman who swung that axe at you when we were investigating the string of deaths in the East Shepparton orchard deaths perhaps I should revise my theory slightly." Phryne paused dramatically, her eyes watching him intently as she raised her glass as if to toast the theory she was about to announce. "A caveat for all those who love then: loss of that love can lead to a most unnatural death."

And for that, Jack had no reply. Only Miss Fisher could declare she loved him and forecast mayhem and death for all those who love in the same breath.

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End file.
